


Sparks Ignite

by hardlyfatal



Series: Find Love Here [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Booty Calls, F/M, Fellatio, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 12:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13547271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardlyfatal/pseuds/hardlyfatal
Summary: Deleted scene from Shoot the Moon where blowies occur. Flimsy excuse to write fellatio, really.





	Sparks Ignite

**Author's Note:**

> This story is an out-take/deleted scene from [Shoot The Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14020233). If you're confused about what's happening in this story, go read that one, it'll all make sense!
> 
> ETA: I changed the title and removed a graphic and references to a particular song, ensuring this fic referred to nothing except Shoot the Moon instead.

.

~*~

.

Her phone dinged at an unwelcome time; Brienne was knee-deep— figuratively speaking— in an instrumental scene wherein her intrepid heroine narrowly escapes capture and certain death by the murderer against whom she is pitting her wits for the sake of truth, justice, and American cuisine. Scowling, she snatched up her phone to see who had messaged her.

Jaime: _you home?_

Brienne stared at it for longer than warranted. It was Wednesday, only three days after the Friday-night-that-had-turned-into-a-Saturday-morning with Cowboy Lannister, spent in a haze of sensuality. They hadn’t really established anything in the way of what was between them besides deciding they'd continue to see each other every weekend.

Brienne: _Yes, why?_

Jaime: _i want to stop by_

Brienne: _in the middle of the day?_

Next came a series of emojis: a winky face with tongue hanging out, a lipstick print, a kissy face.

Brienne: _Is this your way of saying you want to come to my home and have sex?_

He sent her a row of hands in a praying position. She rolled her eyes. If this was what passed for flirting _chez_ Lannister, they were in for a bumpy ride.

Brienne: _No, I'm busy._

Jaime: _i'll make it worth your while_

He followed it with a row of hanging-out tongues.

Brienne: _Subtle._

Then a row of winky faces alternating with more kissy faces. 

Brienne: _You'd better._

She then resolutely put it out of her mind to go back to extracting her heroine from dire peril, becoming so engaged in the scene that she only realized someone had arrived when thudding shook her windows. She dashed downstairs and flung open the door to reveal a frowning Jaime.

“I was about to think you’d gotten scared off and left to avoid me,” he joked, but she could see the hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

It was a bizarre thought— who in their right mind would avoid Jaime Lannister when a booty call was in the offing?— but then she recalled a few of the things he’d let slip about his deceased wife and once again felt a burn of anger for how Cersei had treated him. He deserved better. He deserved to not feel doubt about his reception by his… lover? What the hell _was_ she to him? She could hardly call herself his lover; it had only been a single weekend, so far. She sighed, uncomfortable with the other names she could give herself that described the reality of her situation.

 _Ah, well._ She couldn’t do anything about that, just then, but she hated the unsurety he was clearly feeling as he waited for her reaction.

 _That_ she could do something about.

Brienne gave a mental shrug and grabbed his tie to drag him through the threshold. “Just get in here.”

She’d never seen him in his work attire before, only the tuxedo of last Friday and his work clothes on the ranch, and it was incongruous in comparison to how she’d gotten used to him in the Westerlands. No weathered boots and faded cowboy shirts and ancient jeans, here: he wore a suit that had to have cost at least four digits, with a crisp shirt and beautifully knotted tie. The compulsion to muss him up was overwhelming.

The moment the door was shut behind them, she pushed Jaime against the wall and laid a whale of a kiss on him, purposefully disordering his hair and skewing his tie and rumpling his lapels.

“I hardly recognize you,” she murmured against his reddened lips when she released him after a minute. She stepped back and eyed the mess she’d made of him: he stood plastered against her wall, chest heaving and mouth swollen and eyes glassy with lust, the pupils blown. His custom-fitted trousers were distorted by the erection jutting insistently in Brienne’s direction.

“Seem more familiar now?” Jaime asked hoarsely. Any uncertainty had fled from him; instead, there was the recognizable desire she’d already gotten used to and, if she weren’t mistaken, a certain amount of relief. The idea that he’d be relieved just to be welcomed by his lover/whatever made her see that there was more work to be done. She was going to ensure he realized he was appreciated, dammit.

“Let me just look from one more angle,” Brienne replied, and dropped to her knees, hands already at his belt. As she busily set about exposing him, his hands came to her head, gentle as they combed her hair back, and she was just peeling down his boxer briefs when he tilted her face up. The look on his face was undecipherable, at least to Brienne— just the intensity of whatever emotion he was feeling evident. Slowly, he drew her head to his groin until the tip of his cock touched her lips.

“Open for me,” he murmured, and she did, taking the smooth-rounded head into her mouth, sucking lightly. Jaime moaned and caressed her cheeks with his thumbs. She lashed her tongue over and around it until he whimpered, then plunged her mouth down the entirety of it, to the base, in a sudden move that had him arching against her.

“Brienne!”

She filled her hands with his balls, rolling and massaging in time to the strokes of her mouth over his cock, and his hands lost their gentleness on her head, gripping her hair until it stung, moving her to the pace he wanted, and she gave herself over to him, loving the knowledge that she was pleasuring him to the point where he forgot himself.

“Brienne, yes, oh god, _yes_ , Brienne!”

He poured himself down her throat, and she was careful to watch every second of it. She’d never seen anything more beautiful than this man arching above her, head back, face slack with ecstasy. His hands gentled, went back to petting her, and there was reverence in his touch.

“And here I thought I was going to have to sweet-talk you into doing this to me,” he managed to say after a minute.

She stood and pressed close once more, kissing him deeply, sharing his own taste with him. He drew her closer, their kiss carnal and wet.

“I’m finding it doesn’t take a lot of sweet-talking on your part to get me to do things,” she replied.

He visibly perked up. “Oh, yeah? What other deviance can I get you to try?”

Brienne grabbed his tie once more and began to tug him up the stairs to her bedroom. “Only one way to find out.”


End file.
